2014.01.24 - Katzenjammer
Seventeen minutes ago was when the first wave of explosions rang out at in the heart of Greenwich Village's West Street. Panic murmurs filled the buzzing background noise of the air outside, as the residents and shoppers thinned out their numbers in nervous (and probably wise) act of potential self-preservation. This activity was almost exclusively confined to the premiere hipster microbrewery and bar spot, _El Diablo Don't Care_, which had been exceedingly popular since it'd opened only four months ago. Many are resident and tourist that wanted to posture their social status would swing on by, pick up some amazingly delicious beer. The place normally didn't get hopping until evening time, but this particular activity--the loud explody kind--seemed to be pretty early: it was 2:22pm, so the nine-to-fivers generally hadn't made their way there yet. Police had begun to show up on the scene, their lights flaring, but were weary of entering the potentially 'meta' situation. But our story doesn't start here. In fact, the paragraph above, so delightfully flash-forwarded by our esteemed narrator, hasn't even happened yet! Instead, we take you back to the present: thirty-three minutes earlier, before any of this nonsense even started. _El Diablo Don't Care_ was a particularly massive place, especially consigning both the price of rent, and the arguable needs of a microbrewery/bar set-up, but somehow the locale, owned by the ultra-rich Perrywinkle Brothers of New England, and managed by poor Mister Jocoby, their ex-butler, had managed to buy up and take up two-thirds of a block with it's mass. Half the building was the bar, which was spacious, and full of post-modern art decor that nobody understood but everyone pretended they did. The walls were painted with a dark-chocolatey veneer, and totally sci-fi lamps shined colored light from overhead. There were two bartenders, both were age 25 but looked like they were seventeen: blonde, bosomed, and giggly. Many comfy couches and benches were strewn in a pseudo-arty, convoluted haphazard fashion, and the drinkers swigged their beer and talked. Loudly. The off-limits, also very large area of the establishment was supposedly where the beer was made. If this were the sort of MUX where characters had X-Ray Vision, perish the thought, they'd need all sorts of equipment and rigs for such purposes there. It also looked like a maze back there. One of these bar-goers was miss Tabitha Smith, the up-and-coming hero (at least in her own mind), and she was having a dandy ol' time pestering strangers, being a social butterfly. Not everyone cared for her obnoxious wit, but a few did, and she prattled on about how she was planning on taking the entire world by storm one day, when she became the next Oprah. "Knock-knock," Tabitha told two yuppie-like women who were nearby, in an effort to test out one of her original jokes. The women just stared at her--they hadn't heard a knock-knock joke in literally *years*. After a long, long ten seconds, one of them realized what was going on, and responded back. "Who's there?" "Joe." "Joe who?" "It's just Joe. He's at the door," Tabitha responded, dryly, when something odd caught the corner of her eye. It was a man entering the bar, and he was dressed in a chicken suit. He was followed by another man dressed in a kangaroo suit. And he was followed by a third man dressed in a generic insect-like suit. "Dude, the Village people are here!" Tabitha declared to the women nearby, who'd managed to distance themselves several feet from Tabitha in the few seconds her head was turned. Hipster joints are always entertaining, and when there's beer involved, one Kwabena Odame is likely to attend. Plus, Odame has visited the joint before. It was a good place. An experienced day drinker, Kwabena is already two craft beers and a couple shots of whiskey deep. He's coming in from outside where he's enjoyed a cigarette when he notices Tabitha's exclamation. And he recognizes her. From where... from when... Ah. Yes. "You think dey brought de blow, too?" He comes up nearby, vacating the spot formerly occupied by yuppies, and glances her way with a rueful smirk. I don't know. Not much of an @desc on that Tabitha chick. Can't work with that. Yeah, talk more about her rack! Now now, that's impolite to the writers. It's not all about racks and asses. Yeah but it should be! "I think after this we should all just log into ShangMU* and just TS our brains off," Deadpool says aloud. Several people nearby- including the guys in kangaroo suits- stop and look at him. He shrugs. "Sorry." Man, this place sucks. Hipsters suck. Yes, they are the epitome of lame wannabes. "Oh man, I knew this hipster dude in Cincinatti who had a mom who was the /biggest/ slut of all time," Deadpool says aloud, again. How big a slut was she? "She's like a parking garage. Slip her three bucks and you're in!" Deadpool guffaws and starts slapping his knees, laughing at the joke that he is only having with himself. The guys in the suits even stop and look at him. "Dude. Seriously," one of them says, muffled by the kangaroo mask. He spreads his hands and juts his chin forward. "C'mon." ... Lunair's meta(human)! What's wrong with that?! Just because she doesn't get curve enhancing spandex and PR like some of the mutant peeps doesn't mean that Luna don't care! Because Lunair DO CARE. Also Lunair do not wear spandex. It doesn't work so well if you aren't the right body type. And sometimes Lunair performs community service. And sometimes that involves blowing up hipsters. Sometimes. but not today. Actually, maybe some beer would be nice to bring back or something. She's hard working sidekick when not busting herself up trying to parkour (ow, her face. ow, her EVERYTHING) or get defenestrated, set on fire, shot (in the face!), or whatever. With her totally one hundred percent not fake ID, Lunair slinks in like a ferret with an alcohol problem at an AA meeting weeping as it admits that it's mother was a slinky and ever since, it'd been doing jell-o shots to ease the pain. OH THE PAIN! Also, the last time she blew up something full of hipsters some Chaotic Hair Guy with a bad temper and whose butt was all over Tumblr (Some nightnoodle? Night-something) guy got all fussy about it. So today, she is a polite customer. And then there's - people in suits. "... should I have worn one, too?" Gabriel is walking by the _El Diable Don't Care_ at about the same moment the costumed men walk into the bar. Nothing all that unusual there. Its New York after all. Then he stops and does a double take, focusing on the bartenders. "Now /there's/ something worth going in for!" He murmurs to himself then strikes a thoughtful pose as he thinks about one small problem, "Bar... 18 year-old... Hmmm..." After a moment of thought he disappears in a nearby alley and, after making sure there is no one around to see him (making sure to check behind the Dumpsters for winos or druggies passed out there) he pulls out a booklet from his jacket pocket. He flips through it for a few moments then stop, "This should work." and focuses on the picture in front of him. In a few seconds time and a quick phase through amoeba stage Gabriel turns into Leonardo DiCaprio. Even if Leo would probably never be caught dead in the worn leather jacket and thread bare jeans 'he' is wearing now. Leaving the alley Leo struts up to the doors of _El Diablo Don't Care_ and ables on in... "Speaking of blow..." Kwabena catches the sight of DiCaprio entering, and points his way. "Did you see Wolf of Wall Street? Dere was more cocaine and pussy in two hours dan I'm likely to see in my whole life. And he has de guts to claim hrs nevah done blow. Not a single line! I call bullshit." Seated by a table in the corner there is this masked gentleman in the weird white costume no one can see masked, or costumed. In fact no one seems able to notice anything interesting or strange about Fantomex, which is how he rolls today. There is a small case on the table, but it is also so completely uninteresting that it is really hard to pay attention to it. If someone was willing to pay attention to Fantomex, he has been there about fifteen minutes, waiting and watching the people going through the door. Because crime pays, at least when he steals something; and he has something stolen to deliver in exchange of a good deal of cash. The appearance of the trio on animal costumes makes him stare for a few seconds. You never see those things in France (yes, you do). Gotta love Greenwich Village. Tabitha Smith recognizes Kwabena, but it takes her a few seconds. "Hey Baraka," she says, not even knowing why. She flashes him a dandy little smile, and slides herself a foot closer to him, pivoting her body to face the oddly dressed three men who've recently entered the place, pointing at them. "Whatcha think those guys're up to?" Noticing the women nearby left their mostly-unfinished drinks at the table nearby, she scoops up the more fruity-looking one and sips on it. "Ugh. Tastes like herpes," she exclaims. The three-oddly, animalia-dressed gentlemen keep together, and head towards the front, where the bartenders are. Tabitha watches them move, and soon starts heading their way. Stepping closer, she cosys herself up next to the insecty-dressed one and asks, "Whatcha all dressed up like that for?" "I'm a super villain," he answers, in a monotoned, matter-of-fact way. The foam-core costume makes some popping sounds--it wasn't terribly well made--as he reached his arm up to try to order a drink. The bartenders were trying to ignore him, however, and frustration began to show on his expression. "Yeah? What about the other two?" Tabitha asked. "They're super-villains, too. We're going to take over the city later today," he said in complete seriousness, still totally calm. "We're a super-villain gang," he continued, now sounding a little prideful. The chicken-suited man had looked over to Tabitha now, and began eyeing her up and down, in the same way Deadpool might. "You into villains?" he asked in a gruff, disturbingly-stereotypical mobster-like voice. The dude in the insect suit pushes the guy in the chicken-suit aside and plants a hand on a table near Tabitha, cocking a hip out. He lifts his mask to reveal a red and black mask under it- Deadpool's the third guy! "Screw that noise, you into antiheroes with a heart of gold and enough weaponry to lay waste to a small country?" Do we say 'lay waste'? Yeah, that's kind of hoity-toity talk. "Er, I mean, I've got guns. Huge, big guns," Deadpool clarifies, gesturing vaguely at the insect suit. "Entendre /implied/," he adds, after an awkward pause. A beat. "I'm implying that I'm well endowed, too. I'm bad at this whole conversation thing and my focus is- oh hey, shiny!" he says, looking at a bunch of beer mugs going past. He snags one stealthily and drains it in one pull, chugging thoroughly then tossing the mug over his shoulder, to shatter on the concrete. "Anyway, yellow box was saying that like, your @desc leaves a lot to the imagination. Can't you do one of those Liefeld descriptions where you have no spine, or something?" Kwabena decidedly does not follow Tabitha, instead opting to take a healthy pull from his bottle of Hefe-weiBer. And, of course he's keeping another eye on Leonardo DiCaprio. Man, it's too bad he doesn't have a twitter account. And look... it's Deadpool. Kwabeba scowls and begins slipping out of his leather jacket. He likes that jacket. And a Deadpool is here. It's only a matter of time before he gets shot. DiCaprio walks up to the bar on the other side of the 'super-villans', "Well, everyone deserves some beer before they do something like that. especially when its beer served by two beauties like these." Obviously he's not taking these guys seriously, especially since all his attention is focused on the bubbly blondes behind the bar, "So, ladies, what do you recommend I cozy up to today?" Well, his attention /was/ focused on the blondes. Then a mug shatters next to his foot and he jumps back, "Dude! That's my foot there and I like it unbloodied!" Lunair is so very, very confused. She's gotten into the bar a-okay! And then suddenly, there's malevolent chickens and an evil guy in a kangaroo suit (ok, so a malevolent dude in a chicken suit who is NOT Deadpool). "..." She's worse than those silent protagonists, abusing ellipses like they owe her money. How does one know what herpes tastes like? What is going on? Lunair likes fruit kinda drinks but she was getting something for Deadpool and - you can almost hear her thought train going off the rails and an Ozzy montage or something. It was crazy to start with and then it just crashed, crumpling. As no spine is mentioned, Lunair ponders. "Maybe I should've been a chiropractor..." She rubs her chin. Then there's a Leonardo DiCaprio. And here's Lunair without the Defenestrator. Sheesh. Also, there's a Kwabena. "Hello! Why are you stripping?" Lunair asks Kwabena, confused. She seems baffled by Leo. "... the one you like?" She's smooth! A smooth operator even. Tabitha's eyes go wide with Deadpool's sudden appearance, mystified and curious. "Hey, I'm still new at this," Tabitha says, trying to respond to his comment about her @desc. She makes a mental note to find a publicist for when she makes it big. Assuming that Deadpool was indeed part of this 'gang', she asks him, "How exactly are you going to take over the city? There's like, a billion superheros around here. Heck, even I'm one," she says, raising her fist with a squeeze while grinning coyly. Unbeknownst to Tabitha, three more gentleman had had entered the bar, also dressed a bit oddly. The one in the middle was a regally-dressed older man with a monocle and cain. Flanked to his sides were a man dressed entirely in white from head-to-toe like a ninja, but he was holding a very large staff... the staff looked like giant-sized sewing needle. To the other side was a man dressed in blue and purple spandex, and he had about a dozen varying-sized boomerangs glued to his body. "Attention people of Diablo!" the older man shouted out to the crowd. "I'd like to congratulate you on making it another day on this hellish world," he said sounding... mournful. His tone then became even more sad, and he tried to hold back tears as he continued, "This will be your last day alive. I wish to buy you all a round of drinks!" he announced. Most of the bar-goers just stopped and stared. Even the bartenders--one of which whispered to the other, "Hey, is that guy Leonardo DiCaprio?" Fantomex was trying to get back to be coolly uninterested and aloof when Leonardo DiCaprio walks into the bar, and suddenly there is a Deadpool. Good thing he wasn't drinking his beer just at the moment, it would have looked bad for his aloofness. Common sense tells him to leave right now. He can almost hear the explosions in the immediate future. But he has never been a good listener, particularly to his common sense, which tends to speak in barely audible whispers. Instead he stands up and walks closer to the group. Before he can introduce himself the old man comes and makes his statement. Was someone saying something about explosions? "Oh, I'm not taking over the city. I saw this dude in a insect suit with these guys and I was like, 'man, I gotta get me some of that action'," Deadpool explains, jerking a thumb at the other two villains- who look /extremely/ surprised at Deadpool's presence. "Also, I'm not so much a villain as a high functioning sociopath." Know your terminology! "So I jumped him, snapped his neck-" Deadpool makes a neck-cracky gesture- "and jumped into this bitchin' insect suit. Also, my sidekick helps," Deadpool says, jerking a thumb at Lunair. "She's always around when I need the help. Or a gun. Not that I need more guns," he says, reaching inside the bulky suit. His hands come up with a pair of high-tech sub machine guns, which he brandishes in a friendly fashiion at everyone. "So hey, who wants to kick this party off? Oh wait, is that Kwabena?" Just like that, a burst string of automatic fire goes off, peppering Kwabena's chest and head and blasting neat little holes in the woodwork. And then a second later, Deadpool's nose to nose with DiCaprio, rubbing his insect chin judiciously. "You /look/ like him... but you don't /smell/ like him," Deadpool declares. Do we know what he smells like? Good whiskey and supermodel strange, I bet! Not that Deadpool can say anything about smells to anyone. His personal scent is... well, calling it 'rank' is an understatement. And now, tragically, Lunair will never know why Kwabena was stripping. Her life is full of stars, mystery and wonder. When it's not full of murder, dysfunction and sometimes explosions. It is a strange, somehow shallow and profound one all at once. Whatever the case may be, she just sort of pauses. "I should've gotten on the costume thing," Sadface. "I would've been an awesome -" Pause. An awesome what? Lunair ponders this. "Oh wow, a knitting villain and an arts and crafts guy. I should learn to paint..." She ponders this too. But Lunair is, thankfully, not yet to the point of gluing things to herself. Not yet. And that is a fact she is happy for. There's a wave to the Leo guy. Why not? She tenses at the sound of fire, as if about to bolt or - huh. "Hi!" Wave to Deadpool. And she is. "Yeah, but - the BFG was fun," She admits. And really, infinite ammo is great, but so are unconventional weapons. "Wait, why am I going to die now?" She looks to the strange man saying they were about to die. "Did you poison the beer? That's just mean." Frown. "also, I think if you are going to hit on that lady, you should probably offer something instead of just asking weird questions. That's what Miss Manners says, anyway." Lunair's social skills are - a work in progress. Her emoting is a bit delayed compared to her speech and it's a very dissonant effect. Leo had already started to turn around at the announcement of impending death, looking none too happy. Then: Oh! Hey! Shots fired! And a Deadpool in his face! "Oh, hi Deadpool. Didn't realize you were here. Until the gunshots that is." Hooking a thumb over his shoulder at the old man he adds in stage whisper, "You need to give that guy lessons in subtlety. He's even worse than you are, announcing impending death and all." Leaning over a bit to the side when he spots Lunair's wave he looks around Deadpool's face to smile at her, "Hey, its Lunair too! Hi there! We still on for that dinner you promised!?" Deadpool's sudden burst of gunfire yields many a scream, and many of the people in the bar crouch and shuffle their way towards the walls of the building--many desperately fixed on the front entrance, clearly wishing to flee, but unsure of what this creepy threesome near the entranceway might do about that. Tabitha was taken by surprise, too, although she does like surprises. "Jesus-crapping-John-Doe-Superior on his mighty throne of thorns and cobblestone!" Tabby exclaims, her voice shrill. Then, in a lower tone: "I knew that guy," she says, referring to Shift, already using the past tense. "Termite! TERMITE!" the older, dandily-dressed leader-like man shouts at Deadpool, obviously not yet realizing that it's not actually whoever 'Termite' is. "Too soon, too soon!" he shouts scoldingly, sounding angry and depressed. Turning to his side, he says, "Captain Boomerang, please stop him. Needle, please get these people some drinks." His voice perks up a volume-notch again, "Last call!" "Because he is here." That was Kwabena's answer to Lunair, paired with a gesture toward the newly revealed Deadpool. Yes, that is why he is 'stripping'. Have fun with that one, Luna. Soon enough, however, the African's attention is drawn by the newest arrivals. And this is when he gets shot, multiple times, by Deadpool. Now, had anyone paid close attention, they might have noticed little tufts of black smoke coming from where each bullet struck him. Now, his clothing is riddled with bullet holes, but the African seems no worse for the wear. The wall behind him? Obliterated. And this, folks, is why Kwabena Odame puts his back to the wall when facing Deadpool in a room full of people. Sadly, the beer in his hand shatters, thanks to a small handful of rounds, and this is what gets him mad. "AH, God damnit!" He throws the shattered beverage to the ground, shaking his beer-and-glass-stained hand. So, Kwabena is clearly uninjured by automatic weapons fire. If that isn't like holding up a big flashing 'METAHUMAN' sign... decidedly, he walks over toward Deadpool with a scowl on his face. "You owe me anodah beer, you crazy fuck." And he gives a nice, polite smile to Lunair and Tabitha, the only other ones familiar to him. Aforementioned supervillains? Seemingly ignored. Seemingly. "...the fuck. Boomerangs?" Deadpool looks a bit taken aback, looking at every with an almost pleading expression. "That's you're thing? You chuck /boomerangs/ at people? Oh god, you're a /gadget freak/," he says, clutching his hands to his temples with the guns still in them. Boomerage smirks and starts unholstering one of his trademark chucking sticks. "Yeah, sure, put it on my tab, buddy," Deadpool says to Kwabena. He shoots Kwabena in the forehead and cackles. "Man, that never gets old." BANG. BANG. BANG. THWAK! A boomerang hits Deadpool in the head, sticking out from the bone. "Ow! Shitass!" Deadpool swears. Purple adjacent banana monkey premium! "And you broke my funny voice! He's my favorite!" Hey now. "Oh, shuttup, you're the straight man and we all know it," Deadpool snaps. He grabs the boomerang out of his head with a *chlortch* and some brain material, then hits his teleporter and vanishes. A katana emerges from Captain Boomerang's chest, some twenty inches of cold steel erupting with a spray of blood. Deadpool peeks over the Captain's shoulder, having shed his insect suit with his sexy ninja powers. "Then again, let it not be said I don't like gadgets in certain situations." He winks at Tabitha. "Entendre!" DeCaprio motions at the dapper gentleman at the door after taking a step or two back from Deadpool. Addressing Kwabena he says, "That's no problem. Our good man over by the door just said he's buying drinks for everyone. I would suggest asking for the most expenssive drink in the house." Then he turns to the old man himself adding, "By the way, you're in the Big Apple. Can't swing a supervillan by the proverbial tail without hitting a superhero. Announcing death and damnation all around? Not the best idea..." Interrupted by a boomerang flying by his face he scowls, annoyed. Then he holds up his hand and yells at DP, "Hey DP, boomerang me!" Deadpool grabs one of the boomerangs off the late, dear-departed Cap'n Chukkin-stick, and throws it at DeCaprio. "Catch!" Pause. "I like Deadpool, too, but I think it'd be weird if I started stripping... Well, good luck! He likes chimichangas lots," Lunair offers helpfully to Kwabena. She is all about happiness! Lunair is glad for Kwa. That's so sweet, really. Unfortunately, this is probably one of those times someone should correct her or else she's going to be hilariously wrong forever. And then suddenly Deadpool gets a boomerang somewhere unmentionable. "Oh my gosh." Well, then. Things just got serious. She smiles back to Kwabena. And then she waves to Leonardo. "Okay! And yeah, that'd be awesome!" Beam. "Good to see you!" Wait, who is that? Lunair looks really confused a moment. Then a shrug. Gravity gun time. She's going to end up lifting a chair with it and smacking the knitting needle guy. "Thank you for the beer offer, but I was buying a pack for a friend!" Or at least, trying to hit him. She's still getting used to this gun. Also, she has no idea what's up with the naughty gadgets stuff, but Lunair will totally google that later. And then she might need those beers. And to buy stock in batteries. Fantomex is not too surprised when Deadpool shots this 'Kwabena' person. He is more curious about the old man and the newly come super-villains and their death promises. Something tells him he is not collecting any money today, so what can a French thief do? "Excuse me," he says to one of the cowering bartenders, "you do have a back door, right? I'd suggest leaving and leading all the people out while they are still able to move." He has a nice French accent, and for all practical effects just materialized there, dropping his misdirection illusion power. Leo takes his brand new boomerang and hops behind the bar. Looking down at the bartenders huddling behind the bar itself he says, "Do not worry ladies. Leo is here to save the day!" before hurling the boomerang at Mr. Chicken. And missing. By a mile. and almost decapitating some of the fleeing patrons coming close enough to shave one person's scalp and leave a slice in another's arm. "Oh shit! Oh, hey, so sorry about that! Send your stylist bill to my people and they'll get in touch with your people and make sure there's no scars left!" Sinking behind the bar he mutters to the terrified blondes, "Who would'a thought throwing a boomerang was so hard. Purple dude made it look easy. You two don't have a gun back here somewhere, do you?" With every point blank shot, Kwabena's eyes flinch. I mean, those guns are loud. Up close and personal, it's pretty evident to see what's happening. The bullets are going right through his head, skull, brain and all, the fleshy matter briefly turning into tunnels of thick, black smoke. After every shot, the smoke gets sucked back in and reforms into human tissue again. Gnarly. With an entirely deadpan expression, Kwabena turns to look at one of the bartenders. She's frozen in place, staring at him wide-eyed and in shock. "Beer." She just stares. "Beer!" More staring. "HEY!" Kwabena claps his hands and shakes her out of her shock. "GET ME A BEER!" Nothing. Kwabena plants a hand on the bar and leaps over it, deftly avoiding kicking anyone in the face as he goes. Athleticism! He gently takes her by the shoulders and moves her off, before whispering something into her ear. A moment later, she's running, terrified, out of the building. And then, Kwabena is tending the bar, pouring drinks as requested. "Welcome!" he calls out, "to de China Club! A chia-chung-chung, a chiya-chung-chang chang!" And around comes a bottle of whiskey, aimed straight for Needle's face. These guys want to be supervillains? Meet Shift. Time to shake things up a little. 'The Needle' was the the white-clad ninja-like fellow, and he began strolling quietly towards the bar, showing mild signs of resentment for being relegated to beer server-duty. He knew that his boss was a god-damned wingnut, but he was getting paid pretty well, so he put up with the grunt labor. He ignored Boomerang's boomerang, having grown accustomed to it from past minion-gigs, and only took note when he heard the Katana from behind. Spinning around, seeing Deadpool's handiwork, he dove at Deadpool with his staff. But instead of attacking, he just stared. Staaaaaaared. You see, The Needle's stare was a disabling tactic, and with most people, he was able to render them in a hypnotic stupor. Unfortunately, he did not see Shift's approach with a whiskey bottle. The old man, the gang's leader, seemed to not be particular concerned with his two men's combat, and looked at Gabriel. "Are you Leonardo DiCaprio?" he asked idly, sniffing. He mumbled sadly, "I've got a plan B--Always a plan B--" he said, and began to stroll towards the bar himself. He snapped his fingers at the man in the chicken-suit and pointed back to Deadpool. The man in the chicken-suit turned, and prepared to dive at him, claws emerging from his back. "No killing the funny guy," Tabitha announced, still standing next to him. Just as he began to speak, Tabitha chucked a handful of small timebombs straight at him. Most of them missed, landing behind the counter, but one of them hit the chicken guy straight in the face. All the bombs then went off--and the majority of the hard liquor went up in an explosive blast of glass, catching one of the large wooden pillars on fire. "GAMECOCK!!!" shouted the man in the kangaroo suit, who was aptly named The Kangaroo. Gamecock had grown to be his friend, and upon seeing his friend's face rendered bloody and scarred by Boom-Boom, turned to her with the fury of a thousand beheaded chickens. The bartenders were highly responsive to Fantomex's direction, and nodded to him. Hey, they did have a backdoor. One of them mouthed "thank you" to him, and they both ran like the dickens out of there, not helping anyone else. "Oh shit!" Deadpool dives through the air and catches Shift's hurled bottle, and rotating, whips a knife at Needle, so smoothly that a blink of the eye would make it look like Deadpool had magically turned the bottle into a throwing knife. Most people find throwing knives to be a bit of an anachronism, but when you are a professional mercenary and l33t n1nj4, you can throw knives like a mofo. "Bad Shift! No wasting whiskey!" He smashes the mouth off the whiskey and takes a few quick gulps (how does he drink with his mask on?) and then passes the bottle to Shift. "Hey, try to throw some /good/ whiskey at me next time," he scolds the shifter. "Lunair! Fire support!" he shouts, drawing his katanas, one held in a reverse zatoichi grip. He drops into a spin that looks like a breakdancing move, blades drawing long arcs of blood in whipping scythes. Deadpool comes up in front of The Needle, eye to eye, and.... stares. And stares. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand stares. And staaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaares. And then headbutts the hell out of him, repeatedly. Like someone trying to hammer a nail into a board with his face. Deadpool brings a gun up and empties half a magazine of high velocity bullets into The Needle's chest, shooting him down to the ground. "Does /anyone/ here read +Sheets?" he demands. "I'm mostly immune to mind influencing effects!" He turns, pressing the attack on Kangaroo with something that looks like a combination of swordplay and gun-kata. Crazy or not, Deadpool can fight with the best of them. He even uses the ancient martial arts technique of straight up kicking the guy in his danglies. No one likes getting kicked in the danglies. That's right! INNA NERTS! ... gigglesnrrrt. "... really? Cock?" Heeheeeheee. Lunair titters. But then, she's suddenly being asked for fire support by both Gabriel and Deadpool. Think, Lunair, think. "Ohyeah, we're in a bar." So Gabriel gets a shotgun and - the beer gun. Why not. Thinking quickly, Lunair pulls the dubstep and - pauses. It made Kwabena SO HAPPY before. Well. She might not get to attack too much this time, but why not. Shift deserves to make people break dance. He's so in love he's removing his clothes. That's love! Or a dating sim. She forgets which, really. Lunair is not so much about the whatever is going on. And Lunair herself? She's still got her gravity gun and is going to chase after a someone with a chair. She's not really sure which minion isn't being hit, so maybe it's time for talky guy. "Beating a geriatric guy with a chair makes me feel terrible. And sad. I'll just eat a pint of ice cream later..." And yes, in lieu of friendly fire with bullets, Lunair has settled on nailing enemies with furniture. Haw! Puns. Fantomex sighs at the lack of professional ethics of the bartenders. For shame. He takes a look around and identifies the people not terrifying out of their minds quickly. Smoke guy, hot blonde, gun girl, Deadpool and... Leonardo DiCaprio. Sheesh. Or rather, sacre bleu. "Look at that," he comments to Tabitha, "who needs super-heroes, anyway? Are you really a super-hero? Enchante, I am a super-hero too." He keeps an eye on the old man, just in case. Leonardo makes a sad face as the blondes run away and he looks up at Fantomex and Shift, "Not cool guys, not cool. I was almost in on those two. Way to gamecock-block..." Then its raining guns. Grabbing the shotgun in one hand and the beer gun in another he pops out from behind the bar, shedding sparkling pieces of broken glass and drops of liquor thanks to Boom-Boom. "Shay hello to mah leetle friend...s" Oh, look, Kangaroo Dude is closest. *Click BOOM* *Fwoooooosh* Poor Kangaroo Dude ends up with a hole in his leg and being shoved back by a fire hose strength stream of beer. The leader of this operation heads over to the bar and pours himself a shot of vodka, downing it quickly. Turning around, he sees a few paniced civilians, four dead-or-injured minions, and some heroes. A lone tear rolls down his cheek, and he shakes his head. "Well," the man begins, removing his monocle, "I hope that was enjoyable for you." Sniff. "I should introduce myself... they call me The Weeper. I am a criminal mastermind, but I feel terrible about it." He clicks a button on his belt--some kind of device, and a small rumbling sound is heard through the building. "Today I don't feel so bad," he says, while the tremors begin to grow, "Because no matter what, I will never be as horrible as all of you," he says, his open-hand gesturing towards all the destruction, dead men, and building-on-fire. "You have taught me something today, and for that I thank you." "Man, he sure is polite," Tabitha says to Fantomex in response to his question. "I can totally blow stuff up." After saying that, however, a large explosion is heard from the back of the building. Followed by another. And then a third. The sound of twisting metal wrenching and turning. "Hm? Oh? What is that?" The Weeper says, sarcastically turning towards the noise. "Maybe you ought to check it out," he smirks. Then, suddenly, his disappears with a teleport. "That wasn't me," Tabitha quickly asserts. "Hey, come back here!" Deadpool grabs his teleporter and vanishes, then returns a second later, holding Weepy by the scruff of his neck. "Hey, he tried to sneak off! Fortunately, I've got a MacGuffin that lets me follow teleporters. I spent an entire day screwing with Kurt Wagner with this," he beams, gesturing to his belt buckle. He ignores the explosions, staying steadily balanced. "Luna! Armor up or skeedaddle, faithful sidekick. You're a bit less bombproof than I am." He kicks Weepy's knee out and drags him to the bar by main force, gesturing for Kwa to pour him some shots. "Hey Kwabena, let's do some shots. Who wants shots?!" he shouts at the bar, gesturing at the on-fire liquor shelf. "See how many you can get down before this burning collapses!" DiCaprio drops his guns and hops back out from behind the bar. Going over to Tabitha and Lunair he says, "Hello ladies. Maybe we should try and get some control of all the civilians and evacuate them. What with all the explosions going on and such." He pretty much ignores Deadpool and company. He knows better than to try and get DP to focus and Kwabena doesn't seem much better than DP from what he's seen. And Fantomex... Well, he chased his blondes away. Leo doesn't want anything to do with Fantomex right now. Unless he gets him his blondes back, then all might be forgiven. "It sounded like twenty pounds of thermite going off," explains Fantomex. "And our cue to leave this fine, if doomed, establishment, I suppose." He makes a quick search for brave or foolish people that have still not left. That includes Tabitha and Lunair. Deadpool and his friends are probably safe. "My name is Fantomex," he mentions in passing. Then he grabs a chair and uses it to break a window to the street. Quicker way out. "After you," he offers, "watch the glass". "Hi Fantomex! Nice to meet you!" He's very French, indeed! Lunair waves to the man and goes with it. She frowns. "Well, bummer." So much for taking beer back to Deadpool. At the warning, Lunair pauses. "Oh, okay. Yeah," Lunair nods at Deadpool. Let's get peeps out and evacuate. Since Deadpool has the teleporty doodad. "Hi there!" Then suddenly, Leo in her face. Lunair is - alarmingly fearless and alternately cautious. It's very strange. "Okay." Nod. She will go with Leo and the others then, Deadpool is right. Lunair is alarmingly squishy. Tabitha Smith, both enamored and totally confused with Deadpool's antics, did actually consider getting a drink while the building burned, but Fantomex's dose of reality reminded her that they were all about to die, so... maybe not. She smiled at him, getting ready to make her exit, when--suddenly!--a god-awful banshee-like screech is heard echoing throughout the building, it's wails shaking whatever glass hadn't already been broken. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYAEEEEEEEEEEEEYAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! The Weeper shook in Deadpool's grasp, squirming. "We must get away! I've released the Hellcow. The Hellcow burns with rage and fury!" he says, crying and whining desperately. "A hellcow! I haven't killed one of those before!" Deadpool uses a zip-tie to restrain Weepybutt to a bar rail, and starts slamming shots as Shift pours them. "Yeah, I just power-posed Shift, what ya gonna do about it?" Seemingly unaffected by the noise, he seems content to wait in a burning building for a hellcow to arrive. "Is this like the secret cow level? Do I need a halberd?" After the bar finished exploding, there's Shift. His clothing is pretty much ruined, revealing the spandexy, gunmetal gray of unstable molecules that he wears to avoid embarrassing wardrobe malfunctions. His hand is on the bottle of whiskey. He lifts it, groaning, and just chugs. "Does it need to be blessed? I can give you a halberd." Actually, just in case, Lunair will give Deadpool a halberd as she scampers out of the way of exploding. Pause. Then she pulls off her long, royal navy blue coat and offers it to Shift. "Geez... I get you're enthused, but - sometimes it's okay to be restrained." Seriously. She does politely smile at Tabitha in passing and ... a hellcow. "I hope it makes Kobe beef. That would be so good." Cows! They are made of meat. Leo makes good on his own suggestion and starts to help people out the window opening Fantomex has just made. OK, maybe he is good for something other than gamecock-blocking handsome movie superstars. The exodus of customers starts to go much smoother now that there's an extra exit other than the doors at front or in back. And the wailing help rush the last few stragglers out too. The fire that Boom-Boom originally started had now reached into most of the front area's structure, and the ceiling resounded-out its hints of imminent collapse, the fire starting to consume patches of the floor and benches. "Hot Patato!" Boom-Boom said, leaping out the building. Some of the other non-supertypes bar-goers followed her in turn. She wiped away a few drops of sweat that had formed on her brow, and let out a little sigh of relief. Until she saw it. "Holy Ballsacre le bleu!" Standing in front of her, and some random people was an six-foot Cow Humanoid, female, naked, with hints of fire crackling along its hyde. Demonic eyes flared angrily, and it's mouth full of vampire fangs. It howled at them and at once dove straight at Lunair, looking to take a bite out of her. Fantomex goes out after the other not explosion-proof people have left. Yes, he has a healing factor. No, he doesn't enjoy being blown up, or third degree burns. Oddly enough no one seems to be paying much attention to him outside, despite his odd costume. Definitely not as much attention as say, Leonardo DiCaprio would receive when leaving an exploding brewery. And then there is a hell cow-woman there. "I am going to have to agree, mademoiselle," he says to Tabitha, smoothly pulling twin handguns from their holsters. "It was the right moment to say something French-sounding..." if he says anything else it is lost in the very loud cacophony of high-caliber gunfire aimed to the Hellcow. Deadpool moves like lightning. One minute he's there drinking with Shift, and a second later he is thirty feet away and in mid-air, bringing the halberd crashing down in a vast overhead swing. "DON'T HURT MY SIDEKICK!" he bellows. He runs up to the cowgirl HAH! and produces a Serbu shorty 12 gauge and cuts loose with a cylinder of 00 buckshot right into the joint. Then the other knee joint, then backs up a few steps and pulls a pair of pistols. He glances over his shoulder at Fantomex's pistols, then holsters his and draws a pair of gold-plated Desert Eagles in .44 Mag, and with the slides chugging back and forth with great, booming reports, he starts throwing lead into the cowgirl's HAH! chest and stomach. It took a few moments for Shift to get his bearings again. When he does, he jumps up from behind the bar, slamming the bottle of whiskey down on the counter top. And there, sitting next to him, is something he recognizes. Something from Lunair. A Dubstep Gun. Grabbing it hastily, he readies it and scans the bar. There are a few people hunkered down who haven't yet been evacuated, and an external wall right next to them. Eyeing the dial, he chooses a setting that reads 'BREAKING WALLS', takes aim, and fires. Suddenly, the massive speaker on the nozzle of the dubstep gun emits blasting noise that somehow resembles Skrillex. Brilliant colors blow the wall clean away. "GET OUT!" he shouts at the cowering hipsters, so scared that Skrillex isn't even enough to move their asses. So, he dials it down to another setting, this one showing a man running. He takes aim, fires at the hipsters, and their bodies are suddenly surrounded in bright colors, animating their legs and forcing them to run out of the bar through that opening. Leo peeks out the window and sees the flaming Cow'o'Doom and goes, "Oh crap. This got real now, son!" Popping his head back into the doomed bar he pulls out what looks like a picture book from his pocket, flips to the third page and focuses on the image there. A soon as he starts to focus his body dissolves into a big blob of golden ectoplasm and then expands and grows and reforms into the shape of a tightly coiled red dragon. The red dragon explodes out the window, taking a good part of the wall with it and ending up wearing the window frame as a necklace of sorts and gets himself between the cow and the civvies, growling at the cow, curls of smoke coming out its nostrils. Uh oh. Lunair's about to get SUCKED DRY or at least eaten. Either doesn't seem happy. "Eh? Eek!" Lunair also does not want to be a vampire! She would start hanging out with high-schoolers and people with like, 3 facial expressions! That would be SO AWFUL! And then suddenly! DEADPOOL! Lunair has enough survival instincts to try to dive to the side. Sucking on a leg or foot is much less rewarding than a neck chomp, right? Right. Also, does she really want to be the one being eaten by a Hellcow? Then she tries not to giggle at Shift and his dubstep gun, then HOLY CO-- no, that's an UNholy cow and flying out of the window is a dragon! A freaking DRAGON! "Wow." Either way, she's getting out of the way and going to help cover the fleeing peeps, and make sure Deadpool has fire support. That is what sidekicks do. A panicked, exacerbated Weeper squeals, while considering gnawing off his own arm as he sees the ceiling above starting to give way to the fire, "You can't kill the Hellcow!!" Almost as if it were trying to prove the point, Hellcow turns its body completely towards Fantomex and absorbs all his gunfire without so much as a scratch, the bullets ricocheting out into the street, slightly chipping the asphalt below. Even Deadpool's sudden assault seems to not appear to hurt Hellcow, blades and gunfire causing no harm. These attacks do, however, surprise Hellcow enough to wane it's attack on Lunair. It stops, gazes at all it's attackers in one long glance, and picks out Tabitha as its next target. In a supersonic blink, it's up on her, pushing its weight forcefully, wrapping its fire-laden claws around her shoulders, ready to take a bite. While this is going on, the majority of the ceiling to _Le Diablo Don't Care_ caves in, letting out a deafening crackle and thud. In the distance, some police have showed up and linger, horror and concern on their faces. Deadpool appears again, worming between Hellcow and Gabriel. He brings a steel-pointed knife up and tries to jam it into the cow's eye, with all the force he can muster. That brings around the side goal of Deadpool jamming his free hand, elbow deep into the cow's gaping maw, up to the elbow. "Hey, you ever wonder what a half pound of claymore tastes like?" he asks, clinging to the cow. "I think it tastes like play-doh, personally. But, our chefs do love feedback on their work," he says. There's a giant *FWUMPH* as the claymore- still clutched in Deadpool's hand- goes off. He falls back, sans an arm from the elbow down. He lands flat on his back, then snappoints at the Dragon. "Gabe?! Gaaaabe!" he says, putting both his hands (well, one hand and a stump) into the air. "What's up, chicken butt? How ya been?" Red Dragon grows at Deadpool in as friendly a growl as a dragon can give then turns his attention back to the cow. Wait... A cow. What do dragons do with cows? Eat them, of course! Opening its jaws wide it chomps down sideways taking as much of the cow as possible into its mouth while narrowly missing doing the same thing with Tabitha. Oh dear. Her eyes widen. Lunair thinks. Wait. She pulls a super-soaker out of nowhere. "I bet it hates holy water!" Previously, Lunair had given Pete Wisdom one (1) super soaker full of holy water to deal with a demon, shortly before they ended up in some bathroom or another. Say what one will, but Lunair does seem to have a good memory when she tries. And she'll try to spray the cow with said holy water. The explosion sends Deadpool flying backwards, to crash through several layers of drywall. Then a roof collapses on him. he moans through their mutual earpieces. Then he goes silent underneath a few hundred pounds of roofing and lumber and other assorted detritus. Fantomex sighs when the Hellcow shows to be completely bullet-proof. He hates that. He also dislikes when the bad guys grab the girl, therefore while Deadpool feds the hellish bovine, Fantomex steals Tabitha out of the monster's grasp. Just as second before of the dragon's chomp. "By the way," he jumps, evades, takes cover. "I still don't know your name." Tabitha Smith, while generally easy-going and hard to surprise, had still managed to have her fill of It's-Going-Plaid-level crazy for the day, and as her skin burned at the gnarly clutches of Hellcow, she shrieked. "You fucking cow!" was all she could manage to say, and feeling more badly about the uninspired insult than she did about the pain. And, while Deadpool's assault brought a smile to her face, it merely confused Hellcow, rather than harming it. Boom-Boom considered taking matters into her own hands, when suddenly(!) she happened to notice there was a large red dragon hanging around. 'Oh, okay. A Dragon,' she thought to herself, acceptingly, as her body rose with her captor. When rescued by Fantomex, she says, "I'm Boomy-Boom. I mean, Boom. Boom. Two booms," she says, trying to correct herself to the Frenchman. Hellcow's body was certainly raised and pulled up by Gabrile's dragony jaws, but its mystically-endowed hyde could not be chewed through. Lunair's holy water sprays rained upon its, making an ungodly sizzle-crack sound, releasing a lovely whiff of bacon into the air. Still, it seemed relatively unphased, as it turned its head to look at the dragon biting down on it. At once, it breathed out a giant wave of fire with a mighty howl, bathing the area in random gusts of flame. The policemen dove back behind their police cars, one of them heard shouting, "What the FUCK is going on?!" Red Dragon drops the cow, more insurprise than anything else. After all red dragon, fire, not much of a threat there. But who expects a /cow/ to breath fire. As he rears away from the dropped cow, neck forming a large question mark, the red dragon puffs out a little plume of fire of his own as if asking, "So you breath it, can you take it?" without much hope that the answer will be no. Wait. What? Cops!? OK, time for the big red dragon to leave the scene before someone decides that nets and trank darts are a good idea. And then BOOM Deadpool goes flying and gets buried under tons of concrete. The dragon takes a moment to consider its options, head swinging back and forth between the line of cops, the concrete buried Deadpool, and the rest of the hero bunch standing around and one can almost see the thoughts in his brain, "Enh, tank darts give me a hang over. Pleantly of people to dig 'Pool out." before he launches to the air and disappears into the afternoon sky. Hellcow looked mighty angry, and once again scanned the group, the burning building, the line of police, and the gawkers in the far distance. Then, it looked up to the sky. The bright, blue, beautiful sky. It snorted, almost with a winny. Lunair's holy splashing beginning to mark its skin and almost sting. At once, huge bat-like wings emerged from Hellcow. Within a split-second, it took to the air, its firey flaps whooshing the air nearby. Letting out a more subtle growl, Hellcow started into the sky above with a push, and within seconds had soared into a great height above. "Well, what do ya know," Tabitha said, watching the beast take off into the heavens above, "Like a caged bird, Hellcow just wanted to be free." "Two Booms, nice to meet you," he says to Tabitha, firing a couple rounds towards the Hellcow's head. "Oh, and this is my flying saucer, she is called EVA." Right, there's suddenly a flying saucer here. Because everything is much more interesting when you add a flying saucer. Fantomex stares at the fleeing Hellcow and lowers his guns. "I suppose driving her away counts as winning, non? Maybe she will crash with Thor or Superman up there." Guns gets back to the holsters. "Ah, police. Time for me to go," EVA lands he goes, pausing only to invite the other 'heroes' to join him if they want to leave the scene with style. Because that is what French super-heroes do. Of all the... damnit. Those hipsters are taking too damn long, even under the influence of the Dubstep Gun. Shift would have probably had better results injecting them intravenously with MDMA, or shoving a few grams of cocaine up their noses. Freaking hipsters. Of course, getting those kids out safely is a bit of a concern. He follows them along with the dubstep gun cradled in his arms. If one has seen Ghostbusters, it's... almost like that. As soon as the kids are clear, he pivots around and takes stock of the situation. Burning building. Groaning ceiling. Some kind of cow thing, burning. A target. Good. Shift levels his dubstep gun, but between Gabriel, Fantomax, and Deadpool, there's no clear shot. Shift takes off running toward the action, but Hellcow has taken to the sky. With a grunt, he tosses the dubstep gun back at Lunair, before disappearing in a cloud of thick, black smoke. Easily lost amongst the other non-biological smoke that's all around here. Somewhere in the fray, a nice leather jacket gets snatched up by a seemingly invisible force, and goes flying outside. So does a bottle of expensive whiskey. Category:Log